1984
I don’t know exactly how I got out of reading 1984 in school. Had I read it, I am sure it would not have done much but reinforce my anti-establishment teen angst.
I recently took the opportunity to read the book, finishing it last night. I am still trying to formulate my feelings about the book, but ultimately I think it was a very good book, moving in its brutality. I’m not speaking about the physical brutality toward the protagonist, nor the very anti-climatic, yet bitterly disappointing ending, though I think both reinforced the cold and harsh atmosphere of the book. It’s rare that I find a book strike such an emotional chord, even if they’re about the not so distant distopian future.
Perhaps it was the complete loneliness that Winston was content in, only to find love and companionship thrust upon him, then to be utterly betrayed by all that he trusted. The level of betrayal, as it was outlined in the book was devastatingly cruel.
